Misplacement
by Invisibleamericanburgers
Summary: The Soldier knew him. But he also knew he had hurt his- friend? So the Soldier must go into hiding so he can't hurt him again. Determined to try and make a new life, The Soldier works hard to forget the past. It's very hard when the -friend?- is chasing him. Stucky. Yaoi. Post-CAWS.
1. Chapter 1

Summary; The Soldier knew him. But he also knew he had hurt his- friend? So the Soldier must go into hiding so he can't hurt him again. It's also very hard when the -friend?- is chasing him.

...

The Soldier watched as the Target fell, watching with a sense of regret. Carnage was falling all around them, making the Targets fall look peaceful. The Soldier didn't obverse with awe at the man's seemingly delicate fall, because it wasn't something he was trained to do so. The target was finished, but there was something that made him feel like he had just betrayed his only friend. Except he wasn't his friend, he didn't have any friends. He was did as he was told. The Soldier never disobeyed.

'_Save him. Please. Save him.'_ A voice in his head whispered, as the Winter Soldier watched to see if the Target would resurface. '_Save him. Please. Save him.'_ It was a voice that came by every once in a while, but he had always ignored it.

"Why." He asked. He had never heard more than a few words, but the voice in his head was chanting. '_Save him. Save him.'_

"Why!" The Soldier asked louder. He knew that the man wouldn't resurface and if he were to save him- no. He was a Target. He can't save him.

'_Because he's our friend!' _The voice screamed at him.

Friend. At once, and without any second thoughts, the Winter Soldier jumped. He was our friend. The water slammed into his body, and if the Winter Soldier had the nerve endings to feel he would have screamed in pain. However, the nerves were one of the first things to be blocked.

He found the man sinking in the water almost ten feet under. Friend. Friend. He's our friend. Must protect friend. This time it was his own thoughts chanting as he grabbed at him and began to pull him up.

'_Damn these muscles. It was better when he didn't have them. I wish this wasn't permanent.' _The voice said and the Soldier nodded in agreement. Much better without all these heavy muscles. He then wondered how he knew that, but he was our friend. He was suppose to know this.

They broke the surface of the water, the Soldier taking a breath before looking at his _friend_ to see if he would do the same. Just the word made shivers run across his body. Friend. But he wasn't breathing. Alarm buzzed through him. Breathing is important. Why isn't he breathing. Can he not do it on his own? No, he was breathing when they were fighting. Does he have a mechanical lung? Was it damaged?

The Soldier watched with a sense of hopelessness at his friend. His only companion.

'_Eh. Slap him.'_ The voice in his head said, and the Soldier complied. He was glad that he used his human hand to do so, otherwise he probably would have snapped his neck. But even so another bruise started to appear on his face. One of the many that he had caused.

The man instantly started to cough up water. Good. His mechanical lung has started to work! An unnamed feeling passed through the Winter Soldier. Now they needed to get to land before something hits them. Holding his friend close to him with his mechanical arm, he began to swim towards the nearest piece land.

Men dressed in black began to swarm the place nearest to the Soldier and loaded up their guns.

'_Don't go there. Go somewhere without humans.'_ It whispered, and the Soldier changed his course towards a wooded area. With every move towards the shore, the Soldier glanced back at his friend.

He couldn't believe it. He had a friend. Blond hair and blue eyes that screamed at him to remember. That's right he had- '_Don't think about it now. Get to shore first.'_ Right. His friend depended on him.

The shore came faster than what he expected, but the Soldier was glad he could help his friend. When the water receded behind them, he was no longer able to carry his friend anymore. It was all he could do to pull him along with his mechanical arm. He could feel the energy draining away from his body was the battle finally ended.

The Soldier pulled his friend onto the ground until they were under the branches of a tree. Now he could feel something pulling at him. He looked down at his body and saw that his human arm was bent at an awkward angle. Broken.

It must have happened when he was fighting his friend. Then a horrible realisation came to him. He had hurt his friend. He had almost killed his friend. Looking down the Soldier could see that his friend's suit was turning red.

He had stabbed his friend. He- he was a- a monster! '_Calm down. Help him.'_ The voice said over deaf ears.

How could he do something like this? If he could do this within a small amount of time, then what could he do if he was near his friend? Wh-

"Bucky?"

He froze, looking down at his friend. What was his name? Friend's are suppose to know each others name. Maybe- they weren't friends. Maybe this was some sort of test that he failed. He was going to get wiped again. He was going to get hurt.

"Bucky? Wait, don't-" The man, Target, coughed up blood when he tried to move. "Don't go."

Even if this wasn't a test, he couldn't be around his friend. He could hurt him. Hurting friends is the worst thing. He moved back a step, right now. Even right now he could be hurting his friend.

"Please-, don't go Bucky." The Target whispered. Or was it his friend?

Terrified, an emotion that he was well aware of, the Winter Soldier ran away.

**...**

**Sorry about overusing the word 'friend'. I was trying to get into Bucky's head when he was the Winter Soldier. So this is my first fanfiction in his fandom. I saw Winter Soldier for the first time last night and I just couldn't let it go.**

**Help me I've fallen into this fandom and I can't get out.**

**Hahaha.**

**So, please be advised that there will be some angst, some fluff, and maybe I'll have some yaoi. I don't know. There will be other avengers in this, but this is going in the Captain America folder. :/ **

**This is my very first fanfiction with this type of scenario and I hope I portrayed Bucky okay….**

**Please review and tell me how I am doing. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

'"_Bucky!" A small boy ran up to him, a smile on his face showing the space where a tooth was suppose to be._

"_Steve." He smiled at the slightly younger boy. "What has you so excited?"_

"_My dad sent this home!" He held up a paper. "But I don't know how to read yet! Read it for me please!" The seven year old smiled at him._

"_Yes!" Bucky began to be excited. After all, it wasn't everyday that Steve's father wrote home from the war. He only knew how to read because his parents had taught him, but since the great depression started it was hard to read because it didn't bring in any food. He gently took the card and began to read what was being said._

"_Dear Steve and Felicia, I am writing home on a spare hour that I have. I'm sorry I couldn't write more. It is very busy here at the front line and I couldn't wish to be anywhere else but here. We are being worked hard, but the reward is worth it. We get to save lives, and we are all heros. I love you both." Bucky read, a smile growing on his face._

"_Thats it!" The seven year old Steve bounced. "I'm going to be a soldier too! I'm going to a hero and save lives!"_

_Bucky laughed at his smaller friend. "Oh course you are, Sergeant Rogers!"_

"_No!" Steve frowned, "I'm going to be a Captain! A Captain of America!"'_

He opened his eyes and instantly looked around. He seemed to be in dirty alleyway. The Soldier was tired. It had been a week since the fall of SHIELD and HYDRA. He had been covering up his tracks and working to get rid of old… coworkers. Over the single span of a week, it seemed like he was being released from the numbing effects of HYDRA. It had started three days ago when he started to feel cold. Yesterday he could feel the pain that was flowing from his broken arm. And then there was a gnawing feeling in his stomach, but the Soldier had checked and saw no wounds there. Maybe internal bleeding? Then he could feel the uncomfortable way that he was on the ground.

He was asleep for so long. Everything was so- overwhelming. He wondered why he hadn't noticed before, but everything seemed to be so hazy. It was hard coping with all this change thats around him. And the voice wasn't helping his circumstances. The voice in his head was getting louder.

But one thought both voices had agreed on. Steve Rogers cannot find them, or he'll get hurt. They must protect Steve. Or else.

With a groan, the Soldier stood up. He looked down both ways of the allyway and saw that it was empty. Good. He hated witnesses. They were always so screamy. The Soldier pulled off the vest around his body and let it fall to the floor. Underneath was an old white shirt. He probably had it for a long time. The Soldier wasn't the best at keeping time, because when they didn't need him to kill anybody they always put him in a cold chamber to sleep in. The cold, blessed sleep. The Soldier longed to be in the chamber of ice again, just so he could stop the cracks in his mind.

Taking off his belt full of weapons he stared at them for a long period of time. He almost never went without something to protect him.

Unless he was back at the headquarters. Then they would almost immediately would take his weapons away. Never again. He would never be weaponless ever again. Grabbing a small knife, he placed it in his boot, causing him to groan again from the movement.

He could feel pain right now, and he was sore. He'll heal faster than most humans but it wasn't fast enough in his opinion. The Soldier looked down at his broken arm and wondered if it was safe to go to humans and get it fixed.

Probably not. They're always going to look for him. Steve would never give up. But the waves of pain that he could feel coming from his arm made his head dizzy. That was not good. His handlers would hit him if he collapsed- they're dead.

With a deep breath, The Soldier mentally prepared himself for the pain that was to come. He had practiced this art for many years.

It was time for him to try and fix it on his own. Using his metal arm, he grabbed at his wrist and pulled it fast. The broken shape of the arm smoothed out, but not without causing the Soldier to black out from pain. Maybe he screamed, he didn't know.

His body fell back onto the pavement, slamming his head against the hard rock. His metal arm rang as it hit against the ground, alerting somebody. Slow footsteps came nearer, and a grizzled old man peered down the alleyway.

"Well, I be damned."

...

Steve, at this moment was in front of a grave. Beneath his feet was an empty coffin, or perhaps a coffin filled with an unknown persons remains. He stared at the headstone before smiling softly to himself.

"If anybody asks, you'll be right here." He said, and turned away. He had a personal mission now. He had to find Bucky. Steve could only wonder what he could be doing right now. Terrorizing a small old lady into staying at her apartment to hide for a while. Face down in a ditch, or passed out in an alleyway. All them were worse.

However, it wasn't just Steve who was looking for Bucky. There were several people whom Steve had alerted to look for him. The avengers, his buddies with the CIA, and Natasha. Though Natasha would be busy trying to make a new cover for herself as she stated only a few minutes ago.

But Steve had a feeling that HYDRA wasn't done yet. It was exposed to the whole world, yes, but so there were many people who had escaped before the CIA had got to them. SHIELD was done for, yes, but Steve had many connections.

"What about Trish?"

Steve whirled around and saw Natasha leaning up against a tree. "I thought you had left Natasha."

"I did." She gave him a smile before walking up to him. "But I thought about that cute cashier at Starbucks."

"Natasha, how did you even know that I-"

"Double caf micho with extra caramel." She cut him off, and then handed him a photo. "But then again there was this."

Steve looked down and his breath caught in his throat. It was a picture of Bucky. He was blurry as he walking by some man in a yellow suit, but the metal arm was enough. "Where did you get this?"

"I was passing by some boys who was showing off his photos to his friends. So I kindly relieved him of it." She shrugged. "Turn it over."

There was a time stamp on the bottom left corner. "This was four days ago." He said, a smile appearing on his face. "He could still be in the area. Maybe, I could find him." He looked up to only find that his friend gone. It was nice that she came back at all to show him this.

"Hang on Bucky, I'm coming." He smiled as he started to look for his friend, his heart pounding. Finally, he was going to get his friend back.

...

**So is it good? I don't know much yet...**


	3. Chapter 3

_'They were both 12 when Bucky punched Steve for the first time.  
>"Ow!" Steve clutchted at his nose. "W-what was that for?!" He angrily yelled at Bucky who looked at him with anger.<br>"You don't steal. Never steal." Bucky said cooly.  
>"I was stealing so our families could eat!" Steve yelled. "And besides, it was abandoned. Nobody was around, and it was five dollars!"<br>"I know. We could all benifit from this, but we need to return what we found!" Bucky said, "it's my number one rule."  
>"So you want us all to starve? Is that it?" His friend yelled, angry. In his fist was the five dollars that was unrightfully theirs.<br>"Steve-" Bucky hesitated. What was he suppose to say?  
>"No! Here, have the money, but never speak to me again!" He threw the five dollars at Bucky, and ran away, sobbing.<br>"Steve-!" Bucky held out his hand, but stopped and sighed. He picked up the five dollars and turned away._

_He found him on a bench later that night. Steve was curled up in a defensive ball, looking at the ground. Bucky sighed, but smiled softly. In his hand was a groceries bag. Walking over to the small boy he sat down without saying a word._  
><em>There was a silence, each in their own thoughts.<em>  
><em>"She had three children." Bucky's voice broke the night air.<em>  
><em>"Who?" Steve's voice broke.<em>  
><em>"The person who owned that five dollars." He said, watching his breath form in clouds. "She is a single mother who has three children under the age of five."<em>  
><em>"Where's their dad?"<em>  
><em>"Abandoned them." Bucky said.<em>  
><em>Steve stiffened. It had been almost two years since he got word that his father had died. "What was she doing with five dollars."<em>  
><em>"Her mother sent it for her birthday." Bucky sighed, and wrestled his hand into bag. "But she gave me something for giving it back for her." He pulled out a white package and slid it over to Steve.<em>  
><em>"What is it?"<em>  
><em>"Look."<em>  
><em>Steve's thin fingers unwrapped the package and found a few bars of something dark. The smell of sugar and chocolate filled the air.<em>  
><em>"No." Steve said, his voice filled with awe.<em>  
><em>"Yeah. Apparently she was so grateful that she gave us the leftover chocolate from her business." Bucky said, and then sighed. "Steve, I'm sorry for punching you."<em>  
><em>"I'm sorry for not listening to you if it means I get to have some." Steve said, making Bucky's face break out in a smile.<em>  
><em>That entire night, the two boys feasted on chocolate.'<em>

The Soldier woke up with the gentle swaying of a moving vehicle. Instantly he was alert of what was going on. He was lying on a cushion, in a small vehicle, a man at the steering wheel. He moved upwards slightly, to get in a better position to attack if necessary when a slicing pain traveled up his arm. He looked down to see it fixed up and in a cast.  
>Usually, if he had broken an arm or anything, HYDRA would just let him heal himself. Of course that also meant that he didn't feel any pain, so this time was completely different. He didn't have his handlers, he didn't have the ice chamber, he didn't have the chair to block out his memories, and he certainly didn't have-<br>"So you're awake." The man said, jolting the Soldier from his stupor. He looked blankly at the man, gauging if he was a threat or not. Not. Underneath his hairy arms was a layer of fat showing that he neither had the strength or the power to harm the Soldier before he killed him.  
>"Don't look like I'm about to jump you." The man laughed, looking in front of the road. "My names Carl. What's yours?" He held out a hand awkwardly as he was holding it behind him, and the Winter Soldier stared at it. Was he suppose to use his injured arm? Or his bionic arm that could break a few fingers. What was this guesture anyways? Was it 'I'm going to kill you' gesture? Should he attack him by grabbing his arm, pulling him back and twisting the wrist? Distracting the driver, causing him to crash while the Soldier could escape.<p>

"Oh, so you're the silent type." Carl chuckled. "I don't mind doin' all the talking."  
>"Where are you taking me?" The Winter Soldiers voice was raspy. It felt odd having words come out of his mouth. Especially in English. Russian was better.<br>"Oh, so you do talk! Well, we just passed the boarder into Canada." Carl smiled. "I managed to hide you underneath that blanket. Canada's not real into letting American's in since last week."  
>"..." The Soldier wondered what was Canada, but it sounded far away from America. Steve could find him in America.<br>"Back to the silent treatmen, eh? I reconised you though." Carl laughed, "you're that one HYDRA man to hire, right?"  
>The Soldiers eyes narrowed. He had been found out. He glanced down at his metal arm and cursed it for being so showy. He was probably going to get caught and then Steve-<br>"So I was thinking, since you're out of a job and everythin', why don't you work for me?" Carl looked through the rearview mirror, and the Soldier blinked. That was certainly odd. The fact wherein that he was asked instead of being demanded to do a job, and the fact that the old man wanted to kill somebody.  
>"What for?" The Soldier cleared out his throat, feeling the movement natural.<br>"I work in the wood business, and I need a few more lumberjacks. You seem pretty strong, and I'll even throw in a place to stay. It's out of the way, and you don't have to work with others much." Carl smiled, glancing back at him through the rearview mirror.  
>The Soldier began to think. It doesn't seem to be a trap, and it's out of the way. In a different Country, and he could get some money to help him hide. It was better than sleeping in alleyways.<br>"Sure." He said, fully sitting up. "I'll do it. Don't tell anyone."  
>"I wont! Why take away my secret wepon?" The man laughed, and glanced in the rerview mirror again. "You never did answer my question."<br>The Soldier cocked an eyebrow, the facial movement feeling weird, but natural. He slowly grew tense, what did the man ask again? His memory was fuzzy, even just a few minutes ago.  
>"What is your name, boy?"<br>The Soldier thought, and the side of his lips twitched upwards before disappearing.  
>"James. My name is James."<br>"James, eh?" Carl looked back at him, "does this James have a last name?"  
>"Barnes." The Soldier- no. James told him.<br>"James Barnes. Hmm. Sounds familiar. I wonder why." Carl smiled, and patted at the empty seat next to him. "Come sit up here. I want to know more about you. And if you don't want to talk, then feel free to listen me talk about myself." He laughed. "It seems odd that I can talk to you like I've known you for ages. How old are you, James Barnes?"

James blinked and was lost in thought for a few seconds. "I don't know. I can't remember."

"Huh, well I can help you remember, you see my daughter is a genius. And I'm don't the braggin' type but she is the best I've ever seen! And she is prettier than a moonlit rose, I swear when she gets older, all the boys in town-"

James suddenly knew that it was going to be a long ride into this 'Canada'.

...

**thank you for the reviews. It has kept me going! I feel do proud of myself for posting these extremely short chapters so quickly. Though I promise they'll get a bit bigger as time goes on.**

**I apologize in advance for any typos. I was using my mom's machine and it doesn't have spell check.**

**Please review. I haven't written fanfiction in months!**


	4. Chapter 4

James groaned in pain as his arm was jostled by the moving car. They had started down a dirt road some miles back and it hurt with every rock in the road. And the gnawing feeling in his belly was back. The movement must have ripped open the internal wound making it hurt again.

"Sorry about this." Carl muttered under his breath as the car lurched forwards and went over a particularly rough patch. The road was overgrown with the woods on either side of it, and in some patches the car had to go over a few roots.

"How long until we get there." James gritted his teeth, his bionic arm holding his other arm to his chest to try and get the jostling to stop. It didn't work. But the point was that it made him feel so much better. Curling his arms around his body always made him feel better, James had found out a few hours ago.

'_It's because we always held Steve to our side at night during the winter months.'_ The voice whispered, and James groaned loudly. Why couldn't the voice just disappear. If it had a body, he would have killed it a long time ago.

"We are almost there." Carl said, just as the car lurched forwards. James was glad he had the thought to slip on the 'seat belt'. That was the name that Carl told him.

"I can just walk." James moved his bionic arm over to grab at the door lever- '_we didn't have doors on the cars we used before before.'_ There was a flashback of an old looking jeep without any doors on the sides and a machine gun in the back. There was a man leaning up against the car, a waxed mustache curling upwards. '_Howard Stark.'_

STOP IT. James screamed in his head. He didn't want to know this! Make it go away. I want the ice chamber. The chair. Anything but this!

"We are almost there, you it will only be another minute." Carl said, pushing the accelerator. The car jerked forwards, and suddenly they were on smooth gravel. IT was better than the dirt floor.

James took a few deep breaths, calming himself. He didn't want to injure Carl by accident. If he needed to, he'd rather have a clear mind when he killed the man.

"Tada!" Carl pointed out the window and the Soldier looked up from his curled up position to see a cleared section of forest with a river flowing by. Tree logs were floating down the river and there were several men chopping down neighboring trees.

'_Destroying nature. Huh.'_ James snorted to himself. Destroy lives or destroy trees. Somehow it almost always came down to destroying.

"What do you think of my beauty?" Carl pointed towards a figure. The Soldier couldn't see very well from where he was, but he could tell that the figure was a girl. Not very hard to guess that it was the daughter that Carl spent all morning talking about.

"She's nice." James said monotonously, slightly fed up about the car ride and wanted to get out.

"If you ever, make a move on _my_ daughter, I will hand you in." Suddenly Carls voice turned dark, causing James to look over at him.

What does 'make a move on' mean? '_I….. don't know actually.' _Once again the Soldier was at a loss.

"I won't." James said, swearing to stay away from the girl. So he won't accidentally 'make a move on' her.

"Good." Carl smiled as he pulled the car in front of a log cabin. "Come on in, lets go get some grub."

Grub? That doesn't sound very good. The Soldier didn't want to be in the car anymore than he had to, so followed inside behind Carl. Inside, the smell of something appealing caught his nose. What was that smell?

"Ahh, flapjacks. The best smell in the universe. I'll go get us some plates." Carl winked at him, and pointed to a table. "Sit there and wait for me, alright?"

An order. Immediately the Soldier walked over and pulled out a chair. He sat down, and waited for instructions. He flinched once he realised that he- he had thought he was back ahd headquarters. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. He could escape before Carl got back and-

And then what? This was the best thing that could happen to him right now. In the middle of nowhere, gaining some money, nobody here knew about him. At least he hoped that nobody here knew about him. It would be very bad if they did, because he was-

Out in the middle of nowhere, didn't have any cash, and people were hunting him.

Somehow the positive ways that made this deal bearable were also the dangerous sides of the deal. If he location was compromised, he could only hope that he prepared enough that he could escape from enemies.

Carl soon appeared with two plates with some brown circles on them, and set one in front of James. Taking up his knife (a small and plastic thing, good for stabbing an eye out or if you broke off the tip you could possibly stab it into a jugular), James copied Carl in putting on some white stuff and brown sap and placed them on the brown circles. Then Carl, while talking absentmindedly, cut it up into squares and placed one into his mouth.

James paused, and saw that Carl had swallowed the 'grub'. Slightly confused on how to do this, James copied the actions and placed a brown square into his mouth.

It was like an atomic bomb had went off inside of his mouth. With a dry cough, James dry heaved. It was awful. This grub. James decided to never ever place something like that in his mouth ever again, that is, if he ever stopped coughing. With a gag, he felt a hand slap at his back.

'_The man struggled as the Soldier pulled the tie taught. He had been ordered to make this look like a murder, in which it was. However, the Soldier never questioned his Handlers. The man slapped back at the Soldier weakly in an attempt to get him off. That would never work. With a squeeze, the man's eyes rolled back into his head and he stopped moving._

_Mission completed.'_

With a combined cough and growl, the Soldier flicked the knife up from his boot and turned towards the assailant. The mission wasn't completed, he was still alive. Then memories came crashing down onto the Soldier- no. James.

Carl was frozen, looking at James with a sort of innocent terrified look. The kind that a baby deer would look up at you before you snapped it's neck in two. James could feel the knife in his fist, ready to strike and kill, and slowly lowered it.

"Sorry. I just had a flashback. I didn't mean to." He muttered to himself, and Carl slowly relaxed.

"Th-that's fine son. I wasn't expecting it." Carl said, before slowly inching around James and carefully sat down at his seat. "I suppose you'd like some water?"

Water. That was familiar. His Handlers would often give him water. Sometimes too much, or too little. James had no choice but to drink it, as they had ordered him to. However, it was worse to have too much water, as it always made him feel different. Sometimes after they made him drink some, they would have him complete different courses of activity.

"Yes please." James said, looking down at the knife still clutched in his hand. Carl moved back into the other room, and he took the time to hide the knife into a secret compartment in his arm. It usually held a bomb, but some years ago they took it out and made him carry important documents in there. The plating wouldn't move until James would will them to. It was just like an arm, it moved when his brain told him to move it.

It suddenly struck the Soldier that he was remembering. Odd. The first few days after the fall of HYDRA it would make him scream and clutch at his head. Then again, he had been in America. Maybe Canada was different?

Then the doors opened, and a girl walked in. She was young. Very young. Maybe thirteen years old. She wore a hardhat, and when she saw James her eyebrow arched upwards. "Do you know where Carl is?" She asked in a 'no nonsense' voice. She had wavy dark hair that was tucked up in a ponytail.

James lifted up his right arm and pointed towards the room where the older man had walked into. Just as he did so, Carl came out with a tall glass of water.

"Rosie!" Carl saw the girl and beamed, and then gave a meaningful look to James.

Oh, so this was his daughter. That explained a bit.

"Who is this?" Rosie asked bluntly, pointing a finger at James. "I told you we didn't need anymore homeless people off the streets! It could mess with our plans." She glared up at her father.

"But Honey-"

"Don't you Honey me! You know very well how our plans need to be accomplished on the due date and he could set it all back." She folded her arms, and then turned towards James. "I am so sorry, but- wait. Is that a bionic arm?"

James looked down at his left arm, and then nodded. "Yes. I suppose it is."

"Where did you get it?" The girl was suddenly at his side, her fingers gently touching the metal. James flinched, and automatically wanted to sit back so that his Handlers-

'_Stop thinking about it.'_

"Russia or Germany." James said, unsure. He couldn't remember where he got it or the process on how it came to be his arm. "I can't remember."

Rosie looked at the arm in awe, making James pull it away. He didn't like anybody touching it. "Please do not touch." He murmured, suddenly self conscious. If this was a test that the Handlers were giving him, they would send him to the-

'_Stop thinking about it.'_

The girl looked down at the arm and then back up to James face. He could tell what was going on in her head. The real question was, was she going to continue touching it or was he going to have to kil- no. Or was he going to have to leave? Yes. That sounded a bit better, though odd to say in his mind. There was some part of him that always had enjoyed the adrenaline rush that came from killing, but his body physically felt…. bad?

No, what was that word? James tuned the conversation out as he tried to think of the correct word that he had felt. It was… on the tip of his tongue. The edge of his mind.

"Bolen." He muttered. Yes that was the word. Bolen.

"Excuse me?" Rosie asked, and James lifted his eyes from the floor to look at her. She had moved across the room and was next to her dad.

"Bolen." He said, and then looked down. "It means sick. In Russian." He looked at the wall, not meeting their gazes. "I just remembered that."

"That's very good." Rosie said, and James glanced at her, before shifting uncomfortably. She sounded reassuring. "We'll help you get your memories back together."

What was she talking about? Before James could ask her Carl spoke up.

"Let's get you settled in, okay bud?" And then moved towards the door. Yes. James could tell that his energy was low and he needed to sleep for a few hours. Only a few. Because if he didn't get up in time the Handlers would-

Stop thinking about it. This time James scolded himself, instead of the voice. It was right, he decided. He shouldn't think about what his Handlers would do, but he should think of possible escape routes.

Focus on the now, not the past.

With that in mind, James walked with Carl to his cabin clear into the woods. The path was about three miles long, far from anybody else in the camp.

"Your job is to take care of the saplings." His employer told him and gestured towards a pipe. You will have several hoses and sprinkler systems that run at night. However, several of the scavengers love to tear off bark of the new saplings. I need you to fix them up and make sure hey survive." He led James behind the small cabin, and James was surprised to find dozens upon dozens of rows of little trees.

"Okay. I can do this."

"You have enough food here for about a week, so don't forget to come back into camp a day before to get some new supplies." Carl smiled as he opened up the door to the small cabin. It was definitely small. It had a fireplace in the corner, A bed taking most of the wall, and a rocking chair. There was a bulb hanging from the ceiling, and a small shower head in the farthest corner.

"Not too much, but too little. It's cozy." Carl smiled, "and it doesn't have any of that wifi stuff here. So don't ask for a password."

Wifi? Password?

"I won't." James nodded. He wouldn't ask.

"Unfortunately, there isn't any signal up here either. So we have a bell system hooked up. If you're hurt and you can't make it back, then push this button right here and I'll immediately send some men down to help you." Carl motioned to a red button behind glass, with a large hammer next to it.

"I will." Not. James could take care of himself. Besides a broken arm, that is. He glanced down at it and gauged how long it would be before he could take it off. Maybe in two days or so.

"Good." Carl nodded firmly, and then glanced outside through the dirty window. "It's getting late and Rosie wouldn't want me outside after dark." He gave James a smile, "welcome to the team, James."

'"_We'll always be a team Bucky."' _ A voice rang in his head, a familiar one that made him shudder in longing.

"Yeah." James muttered, and looked away. And thus, another life of solitude begun.

…**..**

**Hiya folks! I'm super happy about the awesome reviews! I love them so much! Thank you for liking my book so far!**

**Alright, so the Bolen thing. How many people hate seeing russian words (like their alpahbet and stuff) but can't read it into words to pronounce in their head? Me. So I used Google Translate. I'm sorry if it is wrong. I blame google.**

**This is a about double the length usually, but I don't think I can do two thousand. :/ My fingers almost fell of. However, when I am used to writing more I probably will make them longer.**

**Thank you for the compliment about my Grammer. It makes me wonder... if this is good, then how bad is it really? I am terrible at grammer, but I know how to dot my I's and cross my T's. Apologies for any typos.**

**I do not own Captain America, though I wish I could be Stan Lee.**

**Thank you! Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

Over the space of two weeks, James had realised that he needed to eat 'grub'. And it was during that time that he found how weak he could be without 'grub'. Needless to say, James hated eating. He could only eat a handful of bites before he felt bloated. If he ate any more, like his body had started to scream at him, he would run outside and then regurgitate. James had decided that he really, really hated to eat.

Of course, that didn't stop him from becoming lightheaded without it.

Over a space of a week, James had decided many things. He liked being alone, several miles from human activity. Because of the nightmares had he had almost every night, but also because it was so quiet that he had time to think. He liked thinking. Usually it was the mission that always went through his head. But now, James realised that the voice in his head, was actually _his_ voice. He was thinking it to himself.

But one of the many likes and dislikes that James had while in Canada, was fire. He remembered the word after almost being frozen to death one night. The next day was turning into the frosty morning air right before the snow came.

It was going to get colder. James knew how cold things could get by random flashes of being curled up next to Steve, curled up under three blankets and both of them were still shivering. The cold nights were ruthless, and James knew somehow they only survived by each others body heat.

He didn't have somebody to curl up next to here. Especially with anybody that James trusted anywhere near him.

The next day he went out and easily cut down a tree by using an axe. It was already dead, and the wood was barkless. His bionic arm made it faster as he didn't feel the muscles strain and burn. He hadn't felt so out of shape before in his... long life?

Whatever. (A phrase in which he had learned from Rosie.)

His other arm had seceded from it's imprisonment from underneath the cast, and even though it was fine, James felt like it was weaker than usual. That made him wary around the other men, who all wanted to grab his arm and push it down in some wrestling technique. (The first time a man tried to do it, he had foolishly started with their left hands. None of the men wanted to wrestle with a metal arm.)

Once there had been a huge pile of wood, James stacked it behind the little cabin. His thoughts then told him that it would get wet and unusable when it snowed. So James started to build a small patio to cover all the wood that he chopped by using materials that Carl had offered.

And then came the snow. It fell in _heaps._ It climbed and climbed upwards, and didn't seem to look like it was going to stop anytime soon. James knew that with the small fire that he should be fine, but soon he grew thirsty.

He didn't want to eat any snow, because that would make him cold again. So he decided to try some sort of golden brown liquid in a bottle that Carl had given him.

It burned on the way down, but made him feel warmer inside. After James had stopped coughing, he decided to take another swig.

And another.

And when Carl came to visit the next day, he found a slightly buzzed Winter Soldier. The alcohol in which he had was very strong. (Carl had said it was like Vodka, but on steroids and had a nice maple-y flavor.) James had a very strong stomach apparently, as he had finished the bottle some hours ago.

That was the first crack in his mask.

Over the space of three months, James decided to like many things and hate many other things. He liked his arm. But he hated it after he got inside a warm building because it would turn so cold that it could burn if you touched it. And when it became so warm, once the cool air touched it droplets would form on it and then freeze. He liked warm baths, and that he could stay in one for months if he could. He loved the smell of pines, and silently worked on the saplings that were hurt. Flapjacks were now enjoyable. Eating was 'okay' now. And then he decided he loved to learn. Rosie would talk to him about things that happened in the past, and sometimes James knew exactly what she was talking about. (He had remembered that he had been part of the murder of several important figures, but had refused to tell Rosie why he had started to cry.)

The crack started to grow.

He decided that he liked this Canada. James knew that if he could, he would stay here forever. But something told him that it wouldn't last that long. But he would always shake the thought away and enjoy what was occurring at the moment.

Then James took the first step. He wrote a letter to Steve.

And then burned it. But he wrote to Steve. That's the whole point.

Every day he would learn something new. Whether it happened back in 1932, or in 1986. He learned how to cut a brake wire in an old car. How to hold onto a rifle and stay in his seat as a car bounced over Natiz territory.

Another crack appeared.

Another letter to Steve. This time it wasn't burned. It found it's way under his pillow. Another appeared within the next few days. This time there was a small drawing. James wasn't the one who was artistically gifted. It was Steve who could draw the most amazing things. He was slightly jealous, but was delighted when Rosie bought him a book on how to draw roses.

The crack started to spread out, crawling ever so slowly.

It was out of shape, and the shading was all wrong, but James loved his drawing. He had slipped it into an envelope, and left it under his pillow with another few letters. His left hand couldn't really hold a pen, and it felt awkward when he tried to write. When he had switched it to right hand, he realised that he could remember how to make fancy loopy words.

Rosie called it cursive.

James called it his kick-ass fighting louppy things.

Carl just laughed.

Even though everything seemed fine during the day, it wasn't during the night. James screamed. And screamed. He couldn't remember what made him arch and clutch at his left arm, but he had a good idea what it was. Every morning he would find a letter or two that he wrote either ripped up or bunched up in his hand.

He then started to leave the letters under a floorboard.

James would only come by once or twice a week, only when he felt he was having a good day. A good day is when he felt his mind clear. A mild day is when he would have flashes of memories that would come and go. A bad day is when he lived through those flashes of memories.

And it always got worse. There were more and more bad days than good. Soon enough, James had started to hide back into his shell. He was afraid that he would go and hurt one of the men because he would suddenly be in a memory. He started to talk a little less, and decided to like to listening to people talk than himself. But that didn't stop James from cracking a small joke and pretending that his life is hanging by a thread.

Then, by one morning by some complete accident, James found that he had a Boston accent. And no matter how much he tried to, he couldn't get rid of it. Some of the workmen started to call him Boston Bean, which James had stopped immediately.

But still, the thought of having a nickname made him smile.

The mask shattered.

Bucky missed Steve.

But James had a new life. One that didn't involve his friend.

...

**I have such a busy life. I leave at 7, don't get home until 6. Needless to say, it's hard to take some time and write. But whatever. This is starting to get good. :)))))**


	6. Chapter 6

The HYDRA base didn't stand a chance. Combined with the efforts of Captain America, Hawkeye, and Falcon, it was demolished in a matter of seconds.

Well, not exactly in seconds. More like within a space of twenty minutes. But it felt like seconds as the three men tore into the base. Hawkeye had broken his record of seven targets per arrow into eleven targets, but he didn't pay attention. Just like Captain America, he was looking for somebody.

"Have you seen her?" He asked, as he quickly drew his bow and shot.

"Not yet." Falcon said over the intercom, as he shot a few men below him.

"Unconfirmed." Captain America replied in the same manner as he flung his shield. Unfortunately, it wasn't his Vibranium shield, as it went down with the Helicarriers, and was never retrieved. He was sure that it would surface soon. But for now, Captain America had a simple Adamantium shield. It was heavier, and it didn't contain the vibrations that the Vibranium had. He'd probably get a few bruises on his arm after this whole ordeal.

"Sights on computer." Captain America said, after punching out another Hydra Agent. Barring the door from anybody else from the room, he pulled out a USB drive and plugged it into the computer.

The screen froze, and then flashed into a blue format screen. Rows and rows of ones and zeros started to spin through the older machine, and then stopped. It pulled up a few files and Captain started to read through them.

"Natasha isn't here." He said, scanning through the files. "She's at a faculty called 'Under Train'. There aren't any coordinates."

"Understood." Hawkeyes voice sounded firm.

It was yet another dead end. Both of them knew that. Though Under Train sounded like an easy place to find, it had almost taken them a month to find this base.

Natasha Romanov was MIA.

HYDRA took her.

That is why Hawkeye and the other Avengers were doing their best to hunt down the rest of HYDRA and destroying it. Mess with a family member, you get the whole group coming after your head.

However, there is one thing that Captain America can admit about HYDRA. It was damn good at hiding. Otherwise he would have done much more damage than this. After downloading more files, he found something that made his heart almost stop.

'**WINTER SOLDIER SPOTTED.'**

Pulling up the file, he scanned a few words, and suddenly his ears rang.

"Canada." He said, looking at the file stupidly.

"What was that Cap?" Falcon asked.

"Canada." Captain America repeated, louder. "HYDRA found Bucky in Canada."

"Six months? Six months searching for this guy and he was right over our heads?" Sam groaned in frustration. "He was so close to us too!"

"This was posted two days ago." Captain America said, his heart thumping as he pushed into the file. "A secluded area of Canada, looks like a tree cutting business. Hang on, there's a picture." The mouse clicked over the blue words and a file was pulled up. It took his breath away, because there was his best friend. He wore jeans and thick black boots, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a long sleeved plaid shirt but you could see his still gloved metallic hand. But what really stole Captain America's breath was a shadow of a smile. The slight change was more than what he had fought almost six months ago. Bucky was talking with a small girl who stood with her hands on her hips, while her index finger was pointed at Bucky. Her face was lit up with a smile, but it made Captain America's inside twist a little and he suddenly disliked the girl.

For a split second, Captain America wasn't there, and Steve gazed at the picture. Then the shouting in his ear suddenly came in, and Captain America was back.

"-make me come in there Cap!"

"I'm back." Captain America said as he closed the program and pocketed the USB drive. "Sorry, I must've spaced back there."

"Well, get your ass out of there!" Hawkeye yelled, "there's a-"

The doors suddenly blew in, making the Captain throw up his shield to block the explosion. A formation of guards filed into the room, all of them spraying bullets. It was a mess to fight in. Ducking and dodging from the guns, Captain America managed to take out the soldiers within five minutes. Picking up his shield, he walked out of the room.

"Done. Let's blow this joint. Literally." Falcon said over the comm's and the three heros' quickly left the compound. There was a helicopter waiting nearby to fly them out of the blasting range.

Falcon pulled the trigger out of his pocket and pressed on the detonation device. The building was enveloped with fire and a deafening boom cut through the air. Thank god that there wasn't any civilization for miles.

"You got the info?" Hawkeye asked Captain, who nodded and reached into his pocket where the USB was. The key word being 'was'. He quickly patted his pockets and then gave a deep sigh. Adrenaline disappearing, Captain America retreated and Steve came into play.

"It must've fallen out when I was dealing with those goons." Steve said, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. "Sorry. We don't have anything."

Hawkeye didn't even bat an eye. He just looked out of the helicopter window. Steve knew what was going through his head. He was frustrated that he couldn't get Natasha out of whatever hell hole she was in. And now that they had just blew up the only Hydra compound that they knew of, they were back to base one.

"At least this isn't such a bad thing." Sam said, a smile on his face.

"I lost the drive and everything that we know." Steve groaned. "We're back at base one." '_Besides the fact that I know where Bucky is._' Steve thought to himself, '_but Natasha is a Avenger. She's much more important than getting Buck.'_

"Well, we know that she's definitely at the 'Under Train' compound."

"Where we don't know. And we've known that since Stark hacked into their satellite feed before they shut it down." Hawkeye spoke up, his voice bitter.

"But you guys are forgetting something. We know where Bucky is now. It wasn't a fruitful harvest like you wanted, but we-"

"Godammit Sam!" Steve said, his angry voice loud in the small space. "Now isn't the time for Bucky. We need to focus on Natasha." His voice broke. The fact that he swore

Sam snapped his mouth shut and then sighed. "Don't you think that Bucky would know where Under Train would be? He was their valuable asset. He would know a ton of things about Hydra that we don't know."

It was the sensation of a curtain pulling back to let the light in. Steve blinked and sudden hope filled him. "You're right. Dang it Sam, you're right."

Hawkeye looked over at Steve. "You remember where he is?" Steve wasn't a fool, he could see the light in his friends face, and he nodded.

"Memorized. Though, this isn't what I had imagined when I was going to find Bucky. But, I had never imagined that we'd both still be alive after 70 years." A warmth spread through his body at the thought of meeting Bucky again.

**Sorry it is so late. Lost inspiration. Back nowwwww. STUCKY. Added some warnings. Like yeah, they are going to be in love. Known as Stucky. Or yaoi. Not your boat? Go away. Why waste your time by reading this if you don't like yaoi?**

**Thankyou.**

**Review.**


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